


Love's Lookin' Good On You

by lizook12



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 15:28:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1474813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizook12/pseuds/lizook12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But if there’s something he’s learned since they’ve been together, it’s to expect the unexpected. </p><p>Embrace it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love's Lookin' Good On You

**Author's Note:**

> Here in PA, we lost thirty degrees between yesterday and today-I needed to escape to the heat again :) Thanks to **effie214** for the feedback and title suggestion. 
> 
> Said title is from the Lady Antebellum song of the same name.

Grinning, he lowers himself into his lounge chair, sets his drink on the table between them as she shades his eyes from the glaring, late July sun.

He didn’t think he could ever enjoy this so much, relaxing in the with a beer, slipping into the water with her.

But if there’s something he’s learned since they’ve been together—since that moment in the backseat of her Mini to the one that happened as they toured this house, the one where she offered to keep looking if he really didn’t want to deal with the pool—it’s to expect the unexpected.

Embrace it.

Turning on her hip, she smiles at him as he leans the rest of the way back, her arm stretching out over the back of her chair. “It’s nice that we both got out of the office relatively early.”

“Mhmm.” He takes a pull from his beer, tucks one arm behind his head.

He just got home not too long ago, is still dressed from a full day of CEO business at QC, but his shoes are kicked off, his sleeves rolled up; he just couldn’t resist joining her by the pool.

Not when she looked so relaxed and happy, not when there’s nothing pressing on them for once other than what he can figure out to make for dinner.

(It would be his turn to cook.)

The shirt she had on at the office has been swapped out for a tank, but the skirt that’s been driving him crazy all day remains, tucked up under her knees. Her feet are bare, toes flexing on the bottom rung of her chair as she rights one of the finished files nestled under a pot on the bistro table between them and turns back to her book.

Pulling his gaze away, he digs in his pockets for his phone, wondering if he can find dinner in that food app she made him download.

A companionable silence falls, warming him almost as much as the sun as she stifles a giggle beside him.

He’s just narrowed it down to two options when suddenly his phone is lifted from his hand, joining her completed work on the table.

Before he can register what’s happening, she’s pulling him to his feet and, in one motion, pushing him into the clear blue water in front of them.

“Wha... Why?? He surfaces, dress shirt already clinging to him as he runs a hand through his hair.

Crouching, she grins, eyes dancing with laughter and love. “You were looking a little hot...”

“Oh? Is that so?” He lunges, grabbing her wrist and tugging her forward hard enough to make sure she clears the edge of the pool.

She lands with a gasp, water splashing over his shoulders, palms flattening on his chest, as her momentum halts.

“Payback?”

“Oh no, this...” He cups his hands, spraying water over her mostly dry back. “This is payback.”

Laughing, she pushes off the bottom, swimming towards the other wall. He chases after her, shortening his strokes as her skirt impedes any speed she possesses.

Reaching the other side, she leverages up on the cement, stretching to grab the water blaster and—

“I don’t think so.” His arm wraps around her waist, pulling her back in even as water crests over her shoulders.

“Fine, that’s how you want to play?” Stepping back, she tilts her head at him, mouth turning up as she drags her hands through the water in a semi-circle, sending a wave across his chest.

Soon water is flying in all directions, sloshing over the walls as their swimming and splashing creates their very own wave pool.

“You know...” He stops near the steps as she tries to gather her hair into a wet ponytail. “If you want to make a calendar featuring me in a wet shirt, you just have to ask.”

“It would be for charity; CEO heroes poolside...”

The words die as their eyes meet, her eyebrow lifting.

And then he’s laughing, pressing her against the edge of the pool, as his mouth covers hers.

She sighs against him, fingers dancing over his shoulders, twining in the hair at the base of his neck as his teeth pull at her bottom lip.

Scrape over her jaw.

Her body arches into his, leg hooking over his hip as his tongue strokes over the hollow of her throat.

“Fuck, Oliver...”

“That’s what I—”

“Idiot.” She pushes his shoulder, grins down at him as he hitches her higher, his hand pressing against the small of her back, cushioning her against the lip of the pool.

His only response is a cocky grin before ducking his head once more, mouth sucking at her collarbone as she writhes against him.

Groaning, she wraps her other leg around him, presses her heel against his spine as he kisses up the column of her throat.

“So fucking gorgeous...” His mouth brushes over hers, thumb drawing circles over her jaw as he rocks against her, his erection pressing to core, driving her higher and higher. “Wet and beautiful and mine.” His hand skates down her arm before cupping her breast, teasing her nipple through the damp fabric of her tee. “ _Mineminemine_.”

It’s a growl against her skin and she rocks her hips forward, elbows digging into the pavement as she matches his rhythm.

His hands are everywhere, skimming over the outside of her thigh, fisting in the hem of her shirt, slipping under the wet straps of her tank top and—

“Shit....” She moans, eyes blinking closed for a long minute as her nails dig into his shoulder. “We need... As great...” She blows out another breath, presses a kiss to _that_ spot high on his jaw. “Great as this is, Mrs. Rosencratz is fucking nosy and you’re not exactly quiet.” 

“I’m not quiet?!” His dimples appear even as he lowers her, body still pressed to hers from head to toe.

“Ok, _we’re_ not quiet.”

“Hell, no, we’re not.”

There’s a moment of shared intimacy and then they’re hurrying inside, stopping every few steps to peel off another piece of wet clothing, kiss and laugh and touch.

They don’t even make it to the couch before he has the shades drawn, her back pressed to the sliding glass door.

“Mmm...” His fingers dance over her ribs, splay across her hip as the sun filters in through the slats, streaking over his chest, and he slides home. “Time to warm back up...”


End file.
